


Such Promises

by JosephineStone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Rain, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:17:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt describes it rather well.</p><p><b>Prompt:</b> S31 : An unexpected storm floods the dungeons so the Slytherins are forced to share dorm space for the night with the Gryffindors. Harry is the only one who'll share a bed with Draco.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Promises

**Author's Note:**

> As Hufflepuff’s common room, and therefore I gather their dorms as well, are located below the ground floor, I thought it made sense to have them be flooded as well. As well as I turned _for the night_ into _for the for-seeable future_ as they had no way of knowing when the rain would stop, and magic or not they had a lot of cleaning to do.
> 
>  **Beta:** [](http://digthewriter.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://digthewriter.livejournal.com/)**digthewriter**  
> 

It was a joke; Harry was sure Zabini meant it as a joke, but his ‘I’ll share with anyone, but Draco,' caused an uncomfortable situation to become much more so. Malfoy’s without hesitation response of ‘Sod off, Blaise’ sounded in good humour—which solidified in Harry’s mind Zabini’s intention of breaking the ice—except it was drowned out by the automatic mutual agreement among the rest of the boys. The silence, which preceded it, left no room for laughter.

Professor McGonagall had woken and prepared them—as best she could—with the invasion of the Slytherins prior to their arrival. The storm they’d endured for a week at that point flooded the sewers, and their contents had spread throughout the dungeons. There was literal shite everywhere. They had a good laugh about that, before she informed them that everyone would be sharing a bed with someone _for the for-seeable future_.

The Hufflepuffs were to stay with the Ravenclaws; they always lucked out.

Seamus shoved his trunk over and jumped into Dean’s bed in the next moment and everyone assumed Neville would be the unlucky one to have to share with the left-out Slytherin. Assumed because no further discussion could take place as Zabini, then Malfoy followed by the others, entered their room.

Everyone waited for someone to make the next move. Dean and Seamus sat on Dean’s bed—their decision already made—and glanced around at the rest of them; Seamus with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and Dean growing lighter by the second. Ron and Neville stood close to their beds both looking at the floor avoiding eyes as they shifted their weight in awkward fidgeting, until their backs were to Malfoy. Ron swung his arms in wide arcs, but Neville’s fiddling was much more reserved to picking at his comforter or the books on his nightstand.

Harry knew Ron assumed they’d share and that both Ron and Neville thought Neville would end up with Malfoy, but he’d never offer. Malfoy would make fun of him and Neville was too shy to put himself out like that. Harry thought the Slytherins would work it out among themselves, but as the silence stretched it became apparent that that would not be happening.

Since Harry shut the door behind McGonagall, he stood in front of the group closest to Zabini. Malfoy stood frozen unblinking to the left of and just behind Zabini. He stared forward at nothing. Nott leaned in the doorway biting his lip and staring at the back of Malfoy’s head with his eyebrows pinched toward each other, but kept quiet. Crabbe and Goyle shifted and swayed just inside the door looking at eachother, then the room, then back at each other. They were only a few feet from Seamus’ empty bed.

Thunder cracked outside that made everyone jump, except Malfoy, then stifled laughter moved through them as they calmed from their shock.

Harry cleared his throat as the tension around them broke, and nodded Crabbe and Goyle toward the empty bed. ‘Why don’t you two take Seamus’ bed?’ Seamus gave Harry a slight glare from the next bed, but then nodded his okay. Harry turned to Neville. ‘You should join Ron.’ Neville nodded and Harry kept his back to Ron; he didn’t want to see the disappointment he knew would be there. Zabini quirked an eyebrow at him, but Harry just nodded Nott and Zabini to Neville’s empty bed. ‘Come on, Malfoy, you’re with me.’

Malfoy moved as if he was in a dream and he had to fight his limbs to obey his commands. Everyone was busy messing with their trunks, or already in bed trying to fall asleep, by the time Malfoy set his shrunken trunk on Harry’s nightstand. Harry shifted himself to the opposite side to make room for Malfoy. He noticed a few of the beds were charmed bigger, however the room didn’t really allow all that extra space. They’d tried it before: adding wizard space to their dorm room, but the castle wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t make any adjustments to his own, but he did pull the curtains, which earned him another questioning eyebrow from Zabini.

Ron answered for him. ‘He has nightmares; he silences them for our benefit.’

Then Harry cast his usual round of spells and could no longer hear them, and settled in to go back to sleep trying not to listen to Malfoy’s laboured breath as Malfoy tried not to cry behind him.

#

Malfoy’s crying was deafening and Harry ran through the dark halls of the Riddle house looking for him. Half the doors were false, but he found a _real_ one and broke it open. Lightening flashed outside so close it shattered the window and a tree caught fire, spilt in half and it fell on the house smashing into the room. Harry didn’t have time to worry about that, because he had to find Malfoy; his cries had turned into screams.

He kept moving; Harry was sure he was on the west side of the house only to hear the screams minutes later on the east side. Harry ran up another flight of stairs to another hallway full of doors. ‘Malfoy!’ His voice filled with desperation echoed down the hall. The screaming stopped and Harry’s heart thundered in his chest.

Why had he stopped? ‘Malfoy?’ Much quieter then, he walked noticing how creaky the floorboards beneath were. They began to crack and split and he saw the fire flicking away beneath them. He kicked in the door to his right and it opened to the outside; a drop straight to the ground, except there was no ground in sight. Rain poured in as he ran to the next door, which turned out to be only a painting on the wall.

The screaming started again. Below him. Sod the fire, there were spells for that and he cast them as he ran for the stairs, but he never got to them. The floor gave away and he fell: two, three, four stories past the fire and into a dark hole, and then smacked hard against the stone ground. When he pulled himself up he was on the seventh floor of Hogwarts near the Room of Requirement. Malfoy screamed again.

He was trapped in the Room, and Harry ran toward it knowing it was useless. He’d been trying for weeks to get in and had no idea what Malfoy required for the room. Useless. He was useless! He couldn’t get to Malfoy, couldn’t find him, and couldn’t save him. He slid to the ground a sob threatening to escape his throat admitting defeat.

The door opened.

Everything was quiet again.

Harry held his wand in front of him and pushed the door wide open, then cast light into the darkness. Someone slapped him in the face. Malfoy. Malfoy slapped him again, and pulled his arm back to swing again. Harry caught his arm mid-swing and stood up ready to fight if necessary. ‘What are you doing?’

Malfoy screamed and fought against him, then started crying again.

Harry woke with Malfoy’s writs in his hands as Malfoy flailed and fought in his sleep half-next-to and half-on-top of him. Harry asked, ‘What are you doing?’ once more, his mind still foggy with sleep.

‘Malfoy!’ Harry pushed him off and began to shake him awake. ‘You’re sleeping; it’s just a dream.’ He fought against Malfoy’s jerky attempts of fighting whatever was attacking him in his sleep. ‘Wake up!’ Malfoy’s eyes opened, he jumped up and _at_ Harry. For a moment Harry was sure Malfoy meant to attack him, but Malfoy wrapped his arms around and clung to him. It took Harry a moment to get his bearings before he returned the embrace and whispered _it was only dream; you’re awake now; everything’s alright_ , as he stroked Malfoy’s hair.

They were both covered in sweat, Malfoy’s face was covered in tears and snot, and Harry feared he felt himself growing hard. Of all the times; of all the things to get turned on by. No, not Malfoy’s crying, but the clinging to Harry part.

‘It’s okay. I’ve got you.’

Malfoy’s heart rate dropped as he calmed; Harry’s sped up. He continued to grow harder and Malfoy was coming to his senses. Harry—desperate to get Malfoy away from his erection—shifted and tried to get him to lie back down, which frightened Malfoy and he clung to Harry pulling himself onto Harry’s lap. That was it; he was done for.

‘Potter?’ It was soft, but present enough for Harry to know he was coherent.

‘Yes?’

‘You saved me.’

Or not; he must have been still out of it. There was no real danger. It was just a dream. Malfoy’s breath tickled Harry’s neck as he shifted on Harry’s lap brushing against _it_ , then stilled.

‘It was just a dream,' Harry said, again, ‘anyone would have.’

‘A dream?’

‘Yes; you’re awake now.’

Malfoy jumped back off of Harry and backed up toward the head of the bed. After a moment of taking in his surrounding, he nodded his head once. ‘Right, thanks for waking me.’

‘Thank you, as well, then.’ Harry gave a half smile. ‘You woke me first.’

It took Malfoy a few seconds to put together what Harry meant. ‘What do _you_ have nightmares about?’ Malfoy’s tone was part intrigued and part uncertain, as though he wanted to know but couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

‘Probably, the same thing you do.’

In the morning, Malfoy was gone before Harry woke. Harry stayed in his bed and listened to everyone else as they woke up and began their day. Part of him was too embarrassed to face anyone. He remembered the looks Zabini gave him the night before, and wondered if he knew _then_ the reason he helped Malfoy, before Harry knew it himself. It grew quiet as the boys left for breakfast and in the silence Harry found the rain had stopped; _fear_ flooded him at the thought that he missed his chance. Harry tore from his bed and ran to the window to see the dreaded sun shining and all the storm clouds gone.

Laughter came from outside the door as Harry forced himself to dress for the day, then it burst through the door in the form of his best mate smiling and begging him to come outside. There were words, perhaps questions, coming from Ron’s mouth, but Harry had no desire to catch them, to fly, practice Quidditch, or to see the sympathetic look on Neville’s face as he asked _rough night?_ when they both followed Ron back down the tower’s stairwell. Harry forced a half-smile and a shrug that he hoped they’d take that as _the same as always_. Nothing new to see here; no reason to pry; ask no questions.

There were certain things Harry had no time for. Following Malfoy around should have fallen on that list long before, and Harry struggled with the fact that his best mates were, once again, right: he was obsessed with Malfoy. Which bothered him more than the understanding the previous night brought him. He was _attracted_ Malfoy.

Harry sat through all his classes missing everything the professors said as he replayed it over and over again envisioning the outcome had he been a bit braver. He thought of himself pulling Malfoy closer instead of waiting for him to be the first to react, of kissing him and taking the hexes if they came, of holding on when Malfoy jumped back instead of letting him go. He daydreamed so much about the few minutes he held Malfoy the night before—and berated himself for his inaction—that by the end of the day he was sure he had been the one to push Malfoy away.

‘You alright, mate?’ It was Neville—weary and cautious as he approached Harry. ‘I could share with Malfoy tonight, if you’re not up to it.’

It was such a Neville thing to do and had Harry not been so surprised at the idea—did he have another chance—he would have smiled his pained _everything is all right_ smile and said it was fine. ‘What?’ There must have been something territorial in Harry’s expression, because Neville took a step back. ‘The rain stopped—’

‘Yeah, but they’re still cleaning it up down there.’ Neville searched Harry’s face. ‘They said at dinner—they started with the kitchens, obviously, but the dorms shouldn’t be cleared for a couple more days. They’re fixing the halls and the classrooms first.’

‘Oh, sorry, I’ve been a bit distra—’

The Slytherins entered as a group—still uncertain of their surroundings they hesitated once in the room, before they made their way to their things to change for the night.

Neville turned toward Malfoy, and Harry saw with horror Neville’s intentions to save him. Harry cut him off with a shrill _no_ that startled everyone in the room. ‘It’s fine, Neville.’ Harry brought his voice down just above a whisper and tried—and failed—not to look at Zabini who was smirking at him. ‘We both have nightmares; it’s best this way.’ Harry thanked him, and spent the next fifteen minutes doing everything in his power to not look eager. By the time Ron, Seamus and Dean made it to the tower, Harry was pulling the curtains closed around himself and Malfoy. He spelled them quickly before Ron could talk to him.

Though Malfoy’s eyes were closed, Harry could tell by his pattern of breathing he was still awake.

He longed to touch him and cursed his nervousness. He was supposed to be brave, but he couldn’t get his hand to cross the two-inch gap between Malfoy and himself. He couldn’t get his mouth to open or force the words he wanted to say out. He waited and hoped Malfoy had another nightmare, then shook himself awake before he fell asleep at the thought. That was a horrible plan. Harry didn’t have nightmares every night and Malfoy probably didn’t either. It was a terrible thing to wish on someone no matter the reason, anyway. Malfoy’s breathing evened out indicating to him that Malfoy had fallen asleep, so Harry reached out and let his hand brush against Malfoy’s cheek. It scared him how much he enjoyed it.

There was no response.

Some of Malfoy’s hair had fallen across his eyes, so Harry brushed it back and tucked it behind his ear, then traced his jaw down to his chin and ran his thumb over his mouth. There was still no reaction. ‘Malfoy? You awake?’ After a moment of silence, Harry was satisfied. He leaned down and let their lips brush—which sent the same rush he always got when he might get caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to through him—then touch—which turned that rush into a warmth—then press—which woke Malfoy up.

Malfoy pulled away and pushed against Harry. ‘What are you doing?’

What _was_ he doing?

He looked confused not angry like Harry expected him to be. ‘Is this some sort of kink for you?’

‘What?’

‘Messing with people while they’re asleep?’

‘No!’

Malfoy waited. But Harry still had no idea what to say, so he leaned in to kiss him again. Not a kink; he just wanted _him_. Malfoy let him then kissed back, but Harry could feel his confusion in it. Malfoy kept his eyes opened and watched Harry.

Again, Malfoy pushed him back. ‘You hate me?’

‘No.’ Harry shook his head as he leaned in again. ‘I don’t hate you.’

Malfoy jerked away to keep Harry from kissing him again. ‘Yes, you do. You refused _refused_ to be my friend and you—’

‘That was years ago!’

Malfoy glared at him and Harry nodded to himself as he gathered his thoughts; they both knew it was not years ago that he hated Malfoy.

‘I’m sorry—I never really gave you a chance.’ Harry could tell that Malfoy still didn’t trust his response. ‘I didn’t hate you; you reminded me of people I hated.’

‘How is that any different?’

‘I still don’t like those things about you.’ Harry grew frustrated. ‘I don’t know; I can’t explain it—I’m attracted to you. Can’t I dislike that you’re a racist prick and still find you attractive. Sex doesn’t have to mean anything.’

Malfoy glanced down and flinched as he tried to comprehend that—despite the seriousness of their conversation—Harry was still hard, then Malfoy’s hand instinctively moved to check himself; Malfoy caught himself before he made contact, but could tell he was still effected as well. Malfoy pressed his lips into a thin line while he glared at nothing.

‘I—I just—didn’t want to miss my chance...with you.’

‘And what if I said, “you already missed it: on the first day of Hogwarts?”’

‘Then—’ Harry, without thought, reached toward him again: he picked at his bed sheets near Malfoy’s right knee, then moved to the bunched up fabric above his knee—as though it was part of the bed and not Malfoy’s clothes—and, since Malfoy let him, he pinched the fabric into a thin hill up to Malfoy’s mid-thigh, then pressed it flat again as though his finger was going down a slide. ‘At least, I tried.’ He repeated his gestures over and over again, until he looked up, caught Malfoy’s gaze, and Malfoy grabbed his hand to stop him.

‘What if I wasn’t into blokes?’

Harry had never thought about it like that.

‘Don’t look like that.’ Malfoy had his impatient tone, but he rolled his eyes instead of glaring at Harry.

‘What?’

‘Like—like _that_ —like “everyone _knows_ you’re queer.”’

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

‘I still don’t—why do you suddenly want me?’

‘I don’t think it is sudden, uh, more like I just figured it out.’

‘When?’

‘Last night.’

Malfoy thought about it. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh God.’ Harry covered his face with his hands. ‘You don’t know, or don’t remember?’

‘I remember last night, but I don’t see how _that_ would make you want me.’

‘It didn’t make me want you; it made me realise I already do.’

Harry could tell it didn’t help Malfoy understand. Still he let Harry pull him closer and let him trail his fingers under his bedclothes. Until Harry slid his hand up Malfoy’s left sleeve, and brushed against the tip of the Dark Mark that Harry knew was there but had yet to see. Pain shot through Harry’s scar.

‘Fuck!’ Malfoy jerked his arm away as though Harry had burned him. ‘He’ll probably want to know what that was about.’

‘Say we we’re fighting.’ It surprised Harry how hollow his voice sounded. The silence stretched as Harry refused to look at Malfoy knowing this destroyed their previous conversation.

‘I hope to never have to see him again.’

Regret hit Harry then, because half of him—the idealistic younger half—wanted to promise Malfoy that he would protect him, find a way to kidnap his parents and put them in a safe place where Malfoy wouldn’t have to worry about them, and that he would never let Malfoy come in contact with Voldemort again, but the other half of him—the older, more realistic half who had been slowly taking over the last few months—knew he couldn’t keep such promises; and that with or without Voldemort, Malfoy was still a racist prick. So he pulled him into another kiss instead; he never was the best with words anyway.

That time, Malfoy didn’t try to pull away and talk or make sense of what was happening between them. Harry was fairly certain he wouldn’t bring it up again.

‘It doesn’t have to mean anything,' Malfoy asked, ‘You’re not going to follow me around and try to change me into one of your charity cases?’

‘What?’ Harry push Malfoy back on climbed on top of him. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

‘I mean promise me that this is just sex. You’re not going to tell your friends, because you can’t keep secrets from them. Or try to save me from The Dark Lord?’

‘It’s just sex, Malfoy. Now, shut up and take your clothes off.’

To Harry’s surprise he did. He pulled Harry down into a kiss and wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist. A minute after Malfoy wrapped his hands around both their erections and lube coated them without the use of words or a wand, Harry realised that Malfoy knew what he was doing.

‘Suck on my neck behind my ear.’

Harry did was he was told.

‘Now move with me.’

Oh, that felt good.

‘Use your other arm for support, keep kissing me and don’t come yet.’

It should have been a turn off that Malfoy was so bossy. It wasn’t. Not only did everything he suggest work, but every command pushed Harry closer to coming. Malfoy must have been satisfied with what he was doing, because he stopped talking and let Harry move on figuring his own way around Malfoy’s body.

‘Tell me what to do.’

‘You’re doing fine; just keep moving just keep—’ Malfoy leaned forward to kiss him, but Harry pulled back and repeated, ‘Tell me what to do.’

Malfoy glared at him—that worked for Harry too—and said, ‘Fine, fucking kiss me.’ Harry kissed him: quick and sweet. ‘Kiss me harder.’ There was more force behind the next kiss, but he pulled back just as fast. ‘ _Potter_ , sod it. Lick my balls.’ Harry moved down and complied. ‘Go lower. Right, like that. Keep going lower.’ Malfoy lifted his hips and Harry lay down on his stomach as he moved his tongue per Draco’s directions. When his tongue hit the edge of Malfoy’s hole, he went quiet again.

‘Malfoy?’

His eyes were closed and his cheeks were pink.

Harry found something he hadn’t done before. He sat up and mouthed at Malfoy’s erection. ‘What do you want me to do?’ Harry stopped and folded his arm under his chin and rested. ‘Malfoy.’

‘Put your tongue inside me.’ Malfoy really liked that and Harry continued without forcing him to tell Harry what to do. Once Harry was close he crawled back up to kiss Malfoy on the mouth and brought their erections together as Malfoy had done before coming just before him. He let himself fall on Malfoy and wrapped his arms around him.

Malfoy said, ‘Just sex remember?’

‘This is a part of sex.’

Malfoy didn’t argue.

#

They woke up to the dorm room empty and more _rain_.

Harry noticed Malfoy blush as they dressed for the day. ‘We’ll probably be sleeping together again tonight.’

‘Not if they fixed the problem.’ Harry took Malfoy’s hand into his. ‘If they did, you could sneak back anyway.’ He pulled Malfoy toward him and tried to make eye contact, but Malfoy turned his head away.

‘Why?’

‘Because I want to stick my tongue in you again.’

‘Potter!’ Malfoy jerked his hand out of Harry’s and gathered his books for the day.

‘What?’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’ It was dangerous; Harry knew that. Anyone close to him was in danger, but Malfoy was also close to Voldemort. Harry nodded his agreement to that he did understand why Draco _couldn’t_ , but that didn’t mean he would give up without a fight. ‘I promised not to save you.’

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he put everything he gathered into his bag. ‘Never mind. It never should have happened.’

‘But you said—’ that it was just sex for fun; none of the rest should matter unless—

‘I lied.’

‘Why?’

‘You called me a racist prick who was just attractive. Because you just wanted to have sex with me, so—’

‘Do you want more?’

‘Do you?’

‘I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me; just tell me what you want. I’ll pretend that it is just sex, if that is what you want. I’ll save you, if that is what you want. I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. But I’ll probably still dream about you, and I might drug you so I can play with your hair while you sleep.’

Malfoy stopped. ‘You didn’t touch my hair once last night.’ He stepped cautiously toward Harry.

‘You didn’t tell me to.’ 


End file.
